


Afterlife

by Jonah_Smith_907



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Soft Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 01:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: Hannibal and Will survive the Fall and go to France. Their relationship is not yet clearly figured out. They have ups and deep downs. Hannibal is not always good to Will. Will is not always a broken, fragile puppy. There's issues. Hannibal can't just stop killing, eating people. So they agree on terms both can accept.Then Jack finds out they are still alife. And trouble approaches.





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a rather short chapter and I'm not quite sure if the next ones will be very much longer, but I'm working on it. It is also very possible that it might take a while until the next chapter follows because I'm currently also working on a Destiel fanfiction and have to do some crazy shit for school soooo....be patient, fellas ;)

They fell. Forever they fell, the house on the cliff receding into darkness. Hannibal could see the yellow light through the shadows of the night, reached out for it. Fear, cold as ice shot through his entire body when he heard Will hitting the water underneath, sinking deeper and deeper unconsciously. And as Hannibal followed, breaking through the ocean's restless skin, he thought he was going to die, for good this time, but he couldn't accept it, he couldn't let Will drown without fighting for him! There was still a chance of him being alive. Tiny, yes, but he was tough.

When the first wave of freezing shock eased, Hannibal forced his sore body to move, dive down into the dark depth until he finally reached Will's limb body, gripped his arm and pulled him up to the air, looking for a pulse under his cold skin. It was weak, barely traceable, but it was there.

Hannibal took his head in his hands, holding his chin up so he wouldn't get water up his nose and started pulling him with him, swimming around the rough rocks until he finally – he had already begun to worry he'd pass out – reached a small beach. He pulled Will ashore, away from the deadly water. Hannibal tried to stay awake, but after having to navigate through angry waves while feeling how the blood, the projectile had ripped into his stomach, was streaming out of the wound, he barely managed to keep his eyes open. He laid on his back next to Will for a few seconds, gathering strength, before he rolled over and reached out for him once more, stroking his cold cheek, wetted with small grains of sand. 

Then he felt nothing.

 

Two dark figures, laying in the cold sand unconsciously, limps spread apart. Neither of them was moving. 

It would be so easy. Too easy maybe. Only one shot would be enough to kill him. To free the world from him. And the other one, the broken one...she had shot him before. She could do it again. It probably would be better for everyone.

But she had made a deal.

Chiyoh put away her rifle and made her way down to the beach. 

 

Something felt different. Apart from the pain in several parts of his body, he felt weird. It took him a while until he recognized the swinging of a boat on the ocean. Will tried to open his eyes and sit up, but fell back on his pillow, groaning in pain.

“You should rather not move, Will. Rest. You will feel better.” 

Hannibal? Will tried to form a sentence, a sense making thought, but he was too tired, too weak.

 

Hannibal watched as Will's tense body settled down again, his eyes still moving under his lids, but his breathing calm and steady. It had been exhausting, carrying him onto the boat, even with Chiyoh's help. 

They had planned this. Hannibal had called her after he and Will had driven after the Red Dragon. They had agreed quickly that she'd do whatever he needed, in exchange for a promise: never to contact her ever again. 

And now here they were, on a small boat on the ocean, not very far away from the shore yet. And Hannibal hadn't been treated yet. Will had come first. Chiyoh had tried to convince him to at least take care of the bullet wound, but he had insisted on caring for Will first. He was in a very bad shape after all.

Hannibal had at first removed all of his clothes and wrapped Will into a blanket – he had sent Chiyoh outside for that part. Then he gently stitched every wound that needed to and dressed him in a pair of sweatpants.

And then he just stood there, admiring Will's smooth skin, his thewed chest.

“If you don't do something soon, you may bleed dry.” He hadn't heard her coming in, had been too absorbed by the sight of Will's stunning look, even in his bad shape. 

“Well. What's to be done about that?” He turned away from Will and looked at her. “Please, leave us and I will take care of it.” He waited until she was gone, then slowly put of his still dripping shirt and trousers, only remaining in boxer shorts. Then he carefully treated his several wounds.

 

Half an hour later Hannibal was finished, had taken a brief but hot shower and was now sitting in a chair next to Will. He thought about staying there for the rest of the night, just watching over him, but eventually he realised that he was too tired and too exhausted to stay awake for much longer. He got up with a small groan and quietly laid down next to him. 

As if Will had only waited for this, he moved a little closer resting his head against Hannibal's shoulder. He sighed and slept on. 

The warmest feeling he had ever experienced rushed through Hannibal's chest at this light touch. He was confused by it, but after short consideration he put his arm around Will and then lifted his head so that it would lay on his shoulder and so that he could hold him closer.

He, too, was asleep shortly after.


	2. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nightmare, boat trip, short stay at a crappy motel. Lots of inner thoughts and stuff, but I don't think anything too serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this took me ages to write and the summary sucks, but I was stuck with a Daredevil fanfiction and couldn't get that out of my head, sooo....yeah I'll try to write quicker than this

The fall was short and yet so long, the wind rushing past his ears, pulling at his hair. Will tried to hold on to something, but there was nothing, nothing at all. And then he suddenly hit the water, pain shooting through his body, burning pain. Water. Water everywhere, in his clothes, pulling him deep down quickly, in his nose, his mouth, taking away his breath. 

He was going to drown. Alone. 

He was scared. Hannibal was supposed to be here, with him, die with him. But he wasn't. Will panicked, gasping for air, but there wasn't any, only water, cold, freezing water. He tried to swim up to the surface of the ocean, but he got pulled down, sank deeper and deeper, further away from the light of the moon. 

He was going to die. Alone. 

And yet … there was something else. A voice. It sounded close and yet far, so far away. 

“Will! Wake up!”

He suddenly couldn't move any more, he couldn't see. He didn't want to die like this! He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, screamed against the darkness.

“It is just a dream! Wake up!”

 

And suddenly he was back. Will jumped into a sitting position, gasping for air, eyes wide open in fear. He looked around wildly, trying to make out where he was, but he didn't recognize this place. His gaze kept wandering around until finally, very much to his surprise, his eyes met Hannibal's. He flinched back in shock, his breathing still uneven. He blinked a few times until his view was sharp again. 

“H- Hannibal?!”, he croaked. He hissed in sudden pain and his hand shot up to his cheek where he felt the still fresh scar of the knife. 

“You are safe, Will. We survived the Fall. We are on a boat on our way to a harbour. You are safe.”

“But how … did we survive??”

“With very much luck.” Hannibal, who seemed to have been rudely awakened and was now sitting next to Will, gently pushed him back into his pillows. “You shouldn't be moving around too much or the stitches on your shoulder and cheek might rip open again.”

Will stared at him for a few more seconds, before finally nodding, slightly confused, and laying back down. 

“Did you dream of the Fall?”, Hannibal suddenly asked. 

“Yes.” It was barely more than a whisper, Will could already feel sleep taking over his body.

“It will pass. And I'm always here for you, Will.” 

He nodded and slowly closed his eyes again, but when he noticed that Hannibal was attempting to get up, he weakly grabbed his hand. Only with little strength, but he stopped immediately, looking at Will.   
“Stay.”

Hannibal watched him a little longer, before he climbed back into the bed. He pulled Will closer, letting him hide at his chest.

 

The next day Will felt stronger and not as tired as before. He debated with Hannibal for what felt like 2 hours until he finally allowed him to get up and on deck of their small boat. Will tripped multiple times but Hannibal always caught him, supported him. 

It was windy outside and cold, but Will enjoyed it. He liked the salty wind on his tongue and pulling at his hair. He closed his eyes and just stood there, feeling the waves rolling under his feet. When he opened them again, there was nothing but the ocean, blue and wild.

Then he saw Chiyoh. They stared at each other, neither of them sure how to act, until Hannibal broke the silence: “Is there a problem?”

“I don't know. She pushed me off a train.” Will squinted at her suspiciously. 

“Yes. I know. She is very protective of me.”

“Then how do I know she won't push me off this boat, too?”

“You don't.”

“Ah.” They fell silent again, until Will asked: “Where are we even going?”

“France. But not with this little boat. We will go by ship in two weeks. The captain owes me a favour. If that is okay with you?”

“Well I can't go back, can I.” He looked at Hannibal. “They will think I helped you. With … everything.”

“What if you did?” Hannibal smiled at him mildly and then took his arm. “You should go down again. It is cold out here.”

Will nodded in confusion and slowly made his way back to bed, but his mind was troubled.  
What if he really did help Hannibal all along? 

 

A few days later they reached a small harbour, where they left their little boat. They went to a little motel, Hannibal supporting Will. Chiyoh walked behind them, carrying two bags. 

“For how long will we stay here?”, Will asked after he had sat down on his bed. He shared a room with Hannibal.

“Only two days, then we will go to France on a container ship. It won't be the most luxurious journey, but we must not draw any attention to us and I think the risk of being recognized is much higher on a cruiser.” 

“Okay.” Will put off his shoes and slipped under the blanket. He stripped down to his boxers, trying to hide as much skin from Hannibal as possible. 

“Don't you … want to do something? Explore the town?”, Hannibal asked. It hurt more than it probably should have, that Will was this … cold towards him. He had been the one who pushed them off that cliff after all. He should be grateful, that Hannibal had saved his life. “Or eat?” But he just shook his head.

Hannibal sighed and looked at him for several minutes, until he finally left the small room. 

 

As soon as Hannibal had closed the door, Will got up again, groaning in pain as his muscles protested. He walked around until he ended up staring out of the window, his bare feet getting cold. He didn't really know how he felt about all this. He wasn't sure if he liked running away with Hannibal. But then again, he'd wanted it, didn't he? 

But what if he started killing again? Only in France this time? Will was certain he wouldn't approve that. But he also knew that Hannibal could not not kill. He was like a lion, elegant and polite, but he had to kill to survive. It was his way of living. 

But was it also Will's? 

It 's not like he hadn't thought about killing someone before. Multiple times actually. But neither with the FBI, where that had basically been his job, nor when someone had pissed him off really hard, he had imagined himself as the actual, original killer. He'd just … fantasized about the feeling of taking a life, what it would be like to feel the hot blood of a dead body running over his very own hands, cold eyes staring into nothingness. 

And then there had been Hobbs. Will had told Hannibal how bad he had felt, for liking to have killed him. But back then of course, he hadn't known about the whole Cannibal-thing.

Will sighed and slowly went to his bed, laying down on top of the cold sheets. He didn't even notice how easily he drifted off into sleep.


	3. Will you run away with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinda fluffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all: this took me ages, sorry for the delay.   
> Second of all: this is a really short chapter, apologies, but I'm afraid the next chapter will take quite some time. Again.

It wasn't a normal nightmare. It wasn't all twisting and shouting, begging for help. It was silent and crushing and terrifying. 

Will found himself on a street. A familiar street. His street. The street leading to Wolftrap, where his home was. Or had been, once, long ago it seemed. It felt wrong, being here. Alone. At night. Or at least he thought it was night. It could be day, too. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. 

He turned his head, glancing over the trees on both sides of the street. Suddenly he froze. The Stag was here, too. Of course it was. Where else would it be?

Wil tried to move, walk away from it, trying to finally break lose from its dark shadow, clinging to his heart. But he could barely move, every step took him so much energy, he thought he was drained. He couldn't see properly, either. His eyes were too heavy to keep them open, he only saw through tunnels of blackness, his limbs leaden. Eventually he slumped onto the floor, all he was physically able to do was screaming, screaming his lungs out as if his life depended on it. 

 

He woke to strong hands, shaking his shoulders firm but gently. He kept struggling, panting heavily. Just as he managed to get one arm free, hot pain shot through his body as suddenly his brain remembered all his cuts and bruises. He groaned loudly and arched back, now in the attempt to get away from whoever was holding him down, nevertheless clinging to the his wrists. He just wanted to get away, hide somewhere dark, alone. 

“- up. Will? Can you hear me Will?”

Another gasp escaped him when his hearing returned. At last he recognized the other person as Hannibal. 

And he let go, strength leaving his body all at once. He finally opened his eyes, blankly staring up to the sealing, avoiding Hannibal's eyes.

“Are you back with me, Will?” Hannibal worriedly stroked the other man's cheek, but Will shook him off by turning his head away.

He was still panting, but could feel himself calming down slowly. He just wished Hannibal would leave him alone in his misery. He didn't want to be seen like this. “ 'M fine.” He took a deep but shaky breath, exhaling loudly. 

“Of course.” The psychiatrist retreated, not wanting to make the other man more uncomfortable than he already was. “Do you require anything? A glass of water, perhaps?” He didn't wait for an answer but went to the small bathroom attached to their room, and filled a cup he found with tabwater. He brought it to Will, who had in the meantime sat up, and gave it to him. 

The younger man took several large gulps, hasting down half the glass. Then he put it next to himself on the nightstand. His hands were still trembling, but Hannibal was smart enough not to point it out. He just sat down on the edge of Will's bed, making sure not to sit on the blanket. 

As he had imagined, the younger man pulled the soft fabric up to his chin, along with his knees, shielding himself against … everything. Will wasn't exactly sure why Hannibal was that close to him and hadn't sat down on his own bed, only a few feet away. 

“Why … are you here?”, he eventually asked.

“We have to talk, Will.” 

That sentence alone was enough to make him cringe. “About what?”

“This. Us. Our future. I am hoping we will spend it together, but I do not wish to make you think I am manipulating you. I want you to feel safe.” The older man watched the younger one closely, minding every change in his face. From the slight blush, rising up to his cheeks, to the heavy swallowing, nothing escaped his eyes. 

Will's throat was suddenly as dry as dust – explains the swallowing – and tried to calm his – still – racing thoughts, tried to extract something usable for a halfway sense making response. “Ah.”, he finally croaked. “Right.”

“I do not wish to push you. Not at all, but I'm afraid this is a rather pressing matter. Considering our ship leaves in one day.”

“Right.”, he repeated. “It's just that I … I don't know. I mean I wanted to run away with you. But that was 3 years ago.”

Hannibal tilted his head and nodded slightly. “Yes.” He reached over and squeezed Will's hand who was too surprised to pull away. “The day you called me.”

“I wanted you to run. And I wanted to run away with you.” His eyes started stinging long before the tears started falling. He didn't wipe them away. 

Hannibal did it for him, careful and gentle. He smiled at the other one. “Is that your answer?”

Will drew a deep breath. Was it? He nodded slowly. 

He had a feeling that if the two of them went separate ways now, they'd never find peace. They needed each other like fire needed water and Will didn't want to be alone. Hannibal was the only person who didn't wait for him to fall apart in front of everyone. And apparently he wouldn't shatter the teacup again. Or at least he'd try. 

He nodded again, harder now. “Yes.”

Hannibal's smile grew wider. “Excellent.”


End file.
